


Don't Get Your Bunk In A Funk

by Grand Buzz (quodpersortem)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 16 year old harry, 18 year old louis, Accidental Voyeurism, Filed Under: Things That Happened, Implied Liam Payne/Harry Styles, Implied Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, POV Liam, POV Outsider, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around, The X Factor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Grand%20Buzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's only trying to <i>sleep</i>. It's not his fault that Harry and Louis keep messing around with a flashlight under the sheets.</p><p>(Or: How Liam accidentally catches Harry and Louis at it, but it's so not <i>his</i> fault).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Get Your Bunk In A Funk

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on Facebook to keep [Vikki](http://castieltheangelofthursgay.tumblr.com/) amused. 
> 
> I'm not claiming my fic is accurate, only that it's fun :)

Liam knows he should sleep, but he _can’t_. Even five weeks into the whole X-Factor experience he has issues ignoring the sounds around him, everything somehow coming through in triple fold in the quiet room.

So instead he’s leafing through a magazine, waiting for his eyes to droop so he can turn off the reading light by his bed. Zayn’s quietly snoring in the bunk under his’, obviously not troubled by the light, and he can hear Niall’s music even over here, although Niall’s in the bottom bunk and at least five feet away from him.

As usual, Louis and Harry are huddled up under the covers of the twin bed on the other side of the room. He can hear them giggle, and has half a mind to tell them off.

They’ve got a flashlight with them, which doesn’t surprise him in the least. They’re like _kids_. Not teenagers, no, like a pair of eight year olds that are far too excited to be up past twelve.

He can even hear Louis’ stupid impressions of monsters from stupid horror films. Liam knows that they’re all _stupid_ films because that one time he tried to show him a proper scary one, Louis almost squeezed his hand to mush and Liam had to stop it halfway through because he thought Louis was going to have a panic attack.

The voices trail off after that.

Liam assumes they’ve fallen asleep, or are getting there. There’s the rustling of sheets, but that’s not unusual anymore. Up until last week they’d go back to their own beds, but Liam’s had to kick them out of the same bed more than once by now.

It’s just fucking irresponsible, he thinks, of them to stay up until they pass out.

He’s about to sigh and turn around, so he’ll be facing the wall instead of the room, when he hears Louis’ little high-pitched giggle.

Liam frowns and strains to hear more. There’s something else going on; a noise he can’t quite place. At first he thinks it’s coming from Niall’s headphones, but it’s not, too loud and too clear and—

 _Definitely_ coming from Harry’s bed.

That’s when he freezes, film-style. And no shit, he’d thought that that didn’t _happen_ in real life but here he is, frozen in place and unable to move because that sounded _just_ like a kiss. Not a dry smack of lips on cheeks, because they do that to each other all the time. It sounds like teeth clicking together, of wet lips and tongues and _shit_.

And really, _really_ , it’s not like he _wants_ to interrupt them, it’s just—there’s a tickle in his throat and it’s been getting worse along, and he _has_ to scrape his throat, _needs_ to and now that he’s thinking about it it’s a very serious, very pressing need. It’s irritatingly overwhelming, in fact, so he gives in.

It quells the noises from the other bed right away, Louis-and-Harry-giggles rising in volume.

That proves that.

-

The next day, Liam doesn’t bring it up. He’s too good of a friend to, and he wants to let Louis and Harry come out—or whatever they wanna call it—on their own terms.

He’s aware of them knowing that it was _him_ who scraped his throat, though. They keep glancing at him when they get a little too close; when Lou strokes his fingers along the back of Harry’s hand or when Harry presses his nose into Louis’ neck for a second too long.

Liam ignores the looks, pointedly looking in a different direction but forcing a smile onto his face because he doesn’t _mind_. It’s just… Weird. Kind of.

He manages to forget about it, sort of, kind of, apart from the moments where he wonders how Louis and Harry fit together, but he only needs to look at them to see how that works; how they fill out each other without leaving any awkward gaps or negative space.

It’s fine, though. It’s fine for another entire week and two days, and then Liam’s in his own bed again. Zayn’s in the shower and Niall’s out and about somewhere, and Liam’s been pretending to be asleep for at least an hour now. He closed his eyes before Zayn left the room, before Louis even crawled into bed with Harry.

The room’s dark and quiet. Harry and Louis turned off the flashlight approximately fifteen minutes ago.

Liam knows because he’s got a little light in his watch. It’s sensible and it comes in handy, and he shouldn’t keep checking the time every five minutes because it’s not helping his cause.

He can’t help himself though, listening for any unfamiliar noises because he’s a truly _horrible_ friend and he can’t help himself. Curiosity’s got the better of him, and it makes Liam want to smother himself with the bloody pillow.

It also means that _when_ the noises come, he’s not surprised. It’s just the sheets again, at first, and then the slick sounds of lips and tongues together. It’s not hard to imagine, not at all, not with all the ways that Harry and Louis lean into each other these days.

More rustling, then, before the kissing noises fade.

Liam’s about to settle down when he hears something else.

The door creaks open, and Zayn comes back in. Liam blinks against the harsh light emitting from the bathroom before Zayn flicks it off, making his way over to his bed and being quieter than Louis ever managed to be tonight.

Liam can hear Zayn’s breathing even out in the bunkbed under his own within minutes. It doesn’t take long before it eases into a steady rhythm; Zayn’s always been an easy sleeper, especially after long hot showers.

It’s strange, Liam muses for a while, that this is the kind of stuff they know about each other now. They’re six weeks into the experience as a _band_ together, and he knows more about these lads than he ever knew about his girlfriend—

Speaking of which. Harry and Louis are making out again. Liam figured they’d gone to sleep, but this doesn’t surprise, and he realizes it never surprised him half as much as he thinks it should have, though.

This time, though, there’s a high pitched noise. It sounds a lot like something right before Zayn came into the room, and Liam keeps his breath for a while—for no good reason, once he becomes aware of it, so he huffs out a sigh.

 _Louis_ , Liam thinks _. It_ has _to be Louis._

It’s difficult to hear their breathing, especially because they sleep (ha) on the other side of the room, but Liam’s fairly sure that that’s Harry gasping.

All his realizations are superficial at first, slow, sinking into a brain already weighed down with the promise of sleep, until everything suddenly clicks. Because _what_ other than kissing would two blokes their age do.

It’s clear as day now, the sound the sheets make whenever they move and Louis’ occasional giggles and high-pitched moans—because that’s what they are. _Moans_. He sounds like he’s desperate to stay quiet, maybe muffled by Harry’s hand or mouth, and Liam squeezes his eyes tightly shut and thinks about covering up his ears with his hands. These are mental images that he Does. Not. Need.

Instead of doing that though, and sparing himself the mental scarring this will bring upon him, he listens as the puffing breaths speed up. His ears are completely attuned to the couple in the other bed and he’s mentally cursing himself, because he _shouldn_ ’ _t_ be listening and doesn’t _want_ to listen and yet it’s all he seems to be capable of doing.

Over the next five minutes, Liam grows increasingly more familiar with the way Harry giggles when Louis shoves his hips forwards (he knows that that’s what happens because he hears the sheets and creak of the mattress, hears Harry say, “ooh _pushy_ ” with a grin in his voice).

Liam becomes familiar with the way Louis tries _so_ hard to keep still and yet he never _quite_ manages, which isn’t surprising him at all really. Harry isn’t silent either, his breathing fast and deep and fuck it, Liam’s dick doesn’t, doesn’t, _doesn’t_ twitch at that. (If it does, it’s because he’s only sixteen and hasn’t had a leisury wank in a bed in over six weeks).

He also knows that Louis can’t keep kissing Harry, because Harry will run out of breath. He also knows that Harry’s on top of Louis—knows, because his eyes are used to the dark now and he blinked them open only to see Harry’s curls peek out from under the duvet they’re hiding under; one hand grabbing the pillow as he moves his hips against Louis’.

That’s when the door opens again, slowly, sharp light from the hallway blinding Liam for a moment until Niall closes it again. He’s tempted to say something, but doesn’t, couldn’t if he wanted to. His throat’s clogged up with something he can’t identify (and he is quite possibly not willing to either). Instead, he listens to Niall undress and climb up into his own bunk.

He sees the light of Niall’s iPod flicker on, catching on his headphones as he puts them on. The faint static buzz of music filters through them; Niall’s unable to sleep without his music. Liam’s not entirely sure, but he think it might be some homesickness on Niall’s front.

Even so, the tinny music is nowhere near enough to dull the noises that Harry and Louis are making once Niall’s settled in.

They must figure that Niall won’t hear, with his music on, and Liam’s sure they’re probably right. That doesn’t mean _he_ doesn’t hear them get increasingly more desperate. He can’t even blame them for it—obviously it’s been the point in this from the start, and he’s under the impression that this isn’t Harry and Louis’ first time, and likely not the second time either.

It’s his own fault that he’s still listening.

Someone—Harry—shoves his hips down against Louis, their movements growing bolder. Louis’ moans come more often, and he’s apparently not silenced by Harry anymore because they’re interspersed with the murmuring of “ _more_ , Hazza, come on” and the creaking of springs. Liam’s familiar with that sense of urgency that comes with impending orgasm, and the way the couple in the bed is moving—yeah, that’s pretty much what he imagines they must feel like.

Liam’s trying to ignore his own hard-one as he hears them still, hears Harry moan once, low and throatily.

That was Harry _coming_ , Liam thinks, and he’s pretty sure his face is red and that his heart shouldn’t be beating as fast at hearing one of his best mates have an orgasm.

He can hear and easily picture the way Louis quickly shoves his hand down inside his own pants—or maybe pushes Harry’s down there—because he’s keening, a high pitched sound. His next whisper comes louder than it should have in the silence of the room, Louis’ voice trembling and desperate as he says, “Oh ffff _uck_ ”.

There’s silence for a couple of minutes, Liam biting down on his lower lip because he can’t run off to the bathroom to take care of his own business. Finally, Harry—he can see the curls—gets up and goes into the bathroom.

Even though he isn’t back yet five minutes later, Louis gets up and enters as well. By then, Liam’s cooled down a little and he’s all too happy about it.

Turning his back to the room, he wonders how often, exactly, they've gone through this routine without him noticing. He feels privy to a secret he shouldn't know about, but after tonight he'll definitely have to discuss it with the lads.

He’s not exactly interested in hearing them sex it up with the rest of them in the room again.

-

The next day, he finds out that the reason why Niall's been falling asleep with headphones on isn't exactly because he can't sleep otherwise, but because he doesn't want to listen to Harry and Louis.

Liam groans, and shakes his head. “I knew they’d done it more often.”

“I didn’t know,” Zayn shrugs with a lazy smile, and then bumps his fist against Liam’s shoulder. “Sucks to be you, eh, mate?”

Liam nods gravely. It does.

He deserves the hugs that Niall and Zayn give him, and he _definitely_ deserves to tell Louis not to touch him until he’s washed his hands from now on.

 


End file.
